RP Log: Battle of Bothawui IV (25 ABY)
A tense mood reigns over the Deliverance, and likely through all the ships of its task group, the crew aboard it going about its task quietly. And then the order comes and the task group, the Deliverance at the heart of it, begins to stream out towards the enemy positions in orbit above Holm'starn. A fighter screen, pickets along the flanks and finally the heavy-hitters: the Deliverance and the Derlin. "Mr. Brand, the Deliverance can take more of a damage than you, we will screen you from Imperial forces and in turn when the opportunity presents itself, you will act the hammer to the Deliverance's anvil and get on the prime enemy ship's flanks." Before long, the enemy was within sensor range and shortly after, within visual range. Argon stands aboard the bridge of the Derlin, watching as the task force approaches the Imperial defenders. The lieutenant commander observes quietly until the order comes through on the comms, "Understood, sir. Get on the flank once it's possible, got it." With a grin he punctuates his response with, "Let's break them." The business of duty aboard the Desolator is rather more formal - lax discipline has never been a failing of the Imperial Navy and its impact on tension in the ranks is significant at a time like this, bolstered in no small measure by the presence of Admiral Fields on the bridge. He stands at the fore of the observation port - panoramic view split between the starfield and Bothawui itself, spread large less than forty-thousand kilometers below them. "General Creed reports rebel landers on approach to Sector One, Admiral." an junior lieutenant reports, only a few years out of academy with the right familial connections to find himself serving as a flag officer's adjutant. "The general anticipates initial fire exchange within a matter of minutes, and requests we stand-by to lend orbital support." "The General may wish for many things..." Fields replies with a thin-lipped grimace carved upon his face as if it were stone. ""...we shall see what can be accomplished. The enemy fleet is on the move?" "As anticipated, Admiral. The Deliverance appears to be leading the column and will enter into firing range in a few minutes. The Annihilator has taken up position to port, per your orders." Fields turns on his heel, passing off half-consumed beverage to the youth who falls into locked, shadowing step as they make their way aftward. "Signal the Annihilator." Fields commands of the communications officer, whose nod to his subordinates passes the instruction down the rigid chain of command. "After first exchange of fire, Captain Corliss is to intercept any attempt by the rebels to harass our flanks. Sensors..." a glance cast to the responsible officer. "...coordinate targeting telemetry with the Holm'starn garrison - target their destroyers and disable any vessel which attempts to break toward the planet. This position will be held." The individual commanders of the Republic task group had their own missions, to deal with this or that asset, and the fighter squadrons had similarly been briefed. And similarly the Deliverance and the Derlin have their own individual mission which is to punch through the Imperial line anchored by the enemy Star Destroyers. "Good flying.", a final terse communique to the Derlin and the comms between the two lead ships of the Republic are cut. Rasi turns back to focus on the sensor display before him, arms clasped behind him. "Focus all efforts on the enemy ship, fire at will.", they were now close enough to do it. "Incoming fire!" an officer in the Desolator's CIC announces, his unbecoming exuberance earning a disdainful glare from the corner of Fields' eye as the flag officer moves to the holo-projection table, a representation of the battle theatre shimmering into life. Indistinct blips resolve into discernible class silhouettes, neat squadrons of fighters closing to attack range with interceptors and diffusing into a chaotic cloud as they duel for supremacy. A scattering of long range blasts flash across the shields, fore viewports filled with brilliant light as the energy dissipates harmlessly across the deflectors. "Forward batteries, return fire. Helm, accelerate to cruising speed and plot an intercept course with the lead vessel. We shall turn back this assault in short order, and General Creed will have his bombardment." Imperial return fire flew a hair's breadth past the Deliverance, the lack of any shaking from the Deliverance confirmed that, but it was still too close for comfort. The Deliverance steamed on ahead, and again its forward guns fired off another salvo at the targetted enemy ship. A cursory look at the sensor map could tell that the other ships were implementing their orders, long-range fire exchanged even as starfighters charged headlong at one another. A second wave of fire from the Deliverance washes ineffectually over the Desolator - scattered blasts defusing into brief flashes around the hull. Fields scarcely even looks up as the Imperator-class' own batteries cycle their charge and prepare to unleash a return salvo. When the creeping emergence of the Derlin from the Deliverance's protective wake, it brings with it a barrage of heavy cannons that rolls a shudder through the bridge, a shower of sparks erupting from a nearby wall as the massive power relay to the tertiary shield dome behind it overloads, wiring fused and insulation and bursting into flames. "Direct hit!" the damage report comes in. "Secondary port-projectors have failed...Assault-class drednaught, sir. Emerging starboard from the cruiser." "Intensify forward batteries." Fields orders, calmly. "Re-route starboard shields to fore. Commander..." he looks across the holo-table to his executive officer. "That dreadnaught...she is the vessel which claimed the Executioner, correct?" Fields does not wait for confirmation - he does not need it. A stain on the dignity of the navy would be washed out today if he had anything to say in the matter. "All batteries, range target and open fire. Helm, accelerate to attack speed." The light buzz to the Imperial ship gets a grin from Argon, but when the attention of the big ships turn to the Derlin, Argon roars out to his navigator and pilot, "TAKE EVASIVE ACTION!" He braces himself as the frigate adjusts itself to try and pose as difficult a target as possible while laser fire zooms around it. "We will need you for later, Commander Brand. Please limit your exposure to return fire from the enemy.", Rasi beams over to Argon's command. "Especially since you're the one who took one of their ships." A more devious man would have used the Devlin as bait, letting the Imps take out their rage - if they are wont to do so - on the Devlin while the Deliverance closed to a more advantageous position. "Unless you wish to be used as bait while I close with them, but I would not recommend it, the risks to your ship would be rather elevated." The massive engines of the Desolator ignite as it accelerates toward the oncoming fleet, a bright blue-white corona glowing about as it powers forward - Imperator-class Star Destroyers are not known for their agility - but in closing distance and maintaining pursuit their size belies their speed, to the ruin of many who dared to forget it. "Range, one hundred and five kilometers, sir. Ion cannons report ready." Tactical reports to the first signs of a smile cracking Field's dour expression. The Mon Cala star-cruiser could withstand withering fire from turbolasers, it was built to do little else. But at close range, it couldn't last long against the superior firepower of the Desolator. A lesson he meant to teach this rebel commander. "Range, Ninety-eight kilometers." pale green-light bathing the tactical officer's face as he leaned across the terminal. "Fire at will." Argon responds over the comm to Rasi, "Understood, trying to avoid getting hit at this point in time. Already had my fill of being shot up on this tour." He turns to his crew, "Maintain evasion. Buy the Deliverance time to get in there." The Derlin's crew follows the order to the best of its ability. Within ion range of the enemy, the white-ish blue plasma that flew past the Deliverance made that clear, Rasi gives the command to switch weapons. "Fire ions, instruct the Derlin to ready itself for close engagement with the lead enemy ship. If at all possible, tell Brand that when the time comes to flank port, that might put the Desolator in the path of any of the Annihilator's fire." A simple sigh given at the ridiculous nature of Imperial naming conventions. The bulbous Mon Cal ship's ions were positioned not far from the main guns, and it is only the different colour barrage that distinguishes the two types of weapons. The rest of the battle proceeded apace, the Tauntaun was still taking fire from the enemy ion emplacement on the surface, paralysed it could do little more but hold. The head-long charge of the Desolator draws it from the relative safety of the Imperial battle line - the Annihilator positioned to defending its starboard flank with heavy turbolaser batteries, Bothawui and the orbital defenses at Holm'starn warding to port - but the clash of starfighters between the two fleets becomes a more pressing concern as the massive battleship plunges callously through the swarm - evasive action taken by pilots creates a parting in the angrily buzzing cloud of dog-fighters, a few ships from either side unable to break clear shattering harmlessly against the armored bulk of the behemoth's hull - consumed in fire as their fuel tanks rupture - burning away as brief sparks in the vacuum of space and a few opportunistic pilots 'eyeball' the launch of proton torpedoes. Awash with hostile fire, the Star Destroyer's shields flare brightly, ionised particles crackling arcs across its hull but it does not flinch and it does not falter. Massive cannons grind through their traverse, tracking targets as range continues to close, the vast barrels recoiling into cooling sleeves as they return fire. Argon hears the command, "Aye, sir." He turns to the crew, "You heard the orders. Time to try and flank these monsters. Hopefully we can get at least a couple of shots in at some point." Argon grins as the ship continues to evade the large laser blasts aimed at it. And then all thoughts of the Tauntaun were put aside as the enemy Star Destroyer's ion cannons found their mark, some of the Deliverance's control consoles blowing in a spectacular display of pyrotechnics and the others locked out as the vessel's power circuits feeding them were overloaded by the excess energy. Defanged and without anything to do, the Deliverance's CO grimaced. "Let's hope the Derlin can get in position to keep them off us long enough to get back in this." and meanwhile the command to prep for a possible evacuation was given. Opportunity. Presented, it must be seized upon. "Helm!" Fields commands the officer's attention. "Increase speed. All ahead full." Rising from his looming posture over the holotable, the paralyzed Deliverance at his mercy. "Angle deflectors to starboard, reset turbolasers to full charge! All batteries, calculate firing solutions on the Star Cruiser and hold for my mark." The Desolator roars once more, massive Destroyer-I ion thrust engines burning their fuel at temperatures which threaten the melt the housing as the vessel lurches forward, those stood at command grabbing onto nearby terminals to steady themselves against the acceleration. As the two behemoths of the battle close, the Annihilator unleashes another barrage of heavy battery fire toward the distant Derlin. Argon sees that the Deliverance is in trouble, but is not in a spot to help it. However, the offending Desolator is accelerating giving Argon a chance to do something. "I want guns on that ship's side. Maybe we will get lucky." With that, the guns fire to life, while the ship avoids more damage, with a satisfying burst as the guns hit the enemy ship. Fire from the Derlin rakes the Desolator's starboard side before the shields can be rotated - a wave of impacts shuddering through the hull as blast after blast tears at ablative shielding, clouds of carbonised debris from the superstructure floating away in the Destroyer's wake. An explosion sees the starboard primary tractor projector torn from its mooring, alarms sounding through the weapons bay as damage control teams rush to control fires and seal breaches. "Minor damage to port, sir." The shockwaves dampened through the Desolator's massive hull scarcely register on the bridge, though the fluctuations as the power grid reroutes cause the holo-table to lose its projective cohesion for a moment. "Primary portside tractor beam is inoperable. Secondary projector unaffected." The Deliverance and the Desolator close, the former adrift as her crew struggle to restore power and reclaim control over their vessel, as the star destroyer thunders toward it like a starving wolf toward a wounded animal. "Helm, reduce speed!" Fields snaps as their vessels begin to pass - a few dozen kilometers of open space all that stands between them. "All batteries... "...FIRE!" Wounded, yes, but not completely out of it. The consoles reboot back up as the Deliverance's safety protocols kick in at last, damage has been taken to maneuvering and the ship's overall control but at least Rasi could see what was going on. See the sensor readings that is and not simply what could be relayed through the viewports that dotted the vessel. "Tell the rest of our forces to screen us and the Derlin from the rest of the enemy, do whatever is necessary to isolate the Desolator from the Imperial line." And then communications is reestablished with the Derlin, "Brand, swing around the back of the Desolator, you will find less weapons facing you from its aft and we might be able to force it to divide its shields between us on its flank and you from behind it." And the Deliverance begins to fire its starboard side weapons. Argon scowls as his ship's shields weather the blast from the distant Imperial ship. "I want to get behind that thing. Once we get there, fire everything you can." Once the Derlin gets to its position, he then braces himself for the blast, hoping to rid the fight of that ship. The Corellian grins once they are in the rear arc, as he gives the redundant order "Fire." The exchange of broadsides is as old as naval warfare itself - from the very first mariners took to the waves in wooden ships - much of the business of manuevering and positioning that makes up naval warfare is to avoid situations like this, where both ships, at their fullest capabilities, unleash untold destruction on one another. Fortunately for both men, Fields and Cen alike, these are no fragile gunboats but ships of the line. The Desolator's powerful shielding and massive bulk ward off the fusilade of laser and ion fire, its vast engines still burning hotly slipping the feeble tractor bonds with scarcely a shudder. The sudden swing of the Derlin cleaves through the whirling swarm of duelling starfighters, a TIE's pursuit of an X-Wing broken by the ship's imposition - the Imperial pilot banks hard to port and plunges into a dive, throwing his thrusters into reverse as he frantically tries to bleed off speed and narrowly escapes collision, S-foils clipping the hull and sending it into a spin. The rebel pilot left sure that The Force really was with him, in the fortuitious intervention. The raking fire received from the Derlin smashes into the Desolator's exposed engines, the tremendous heat of the exhaust housing softening the metal, it rends easily under assault and falls into space, a long trail of debris strew in its wake as one of the three vast engines goes dark. "Heavy damage to aft, sir!" the second officer reports from his terminal. "We've lost one of our primary drives, engines are at two-thirds capacity." "Tack hard to port, best speed." Fields issues his commands calmly, even as he pulls himself back to his feet from the rocking explosion that'd born him to the floor. "Coordinate counter-fire battery fire with the Annihilator, have her run down that dreadnaught. Ion cannons, on the Deliverance. This battle is not over yet." As the two ships unload a wave of death towards the Derlin, Argon preemptively winces and orders, "Evade!" Though his pilot and navigation crew already were of the same mind as the Derlin whipped out of the way as quickly as possible, the ship avoiding any damage from the attack, fortunately. Argon hoping that the Deliverance is able to take advantage of the situation. No damage is reported from the Star Destroyer's latest broadsides, and as it begins to turn away from his ship, Rasi turns to his gunnery section. "Keep everything we have on it, let's force it to divide its shields between us and the Derlin." And the cruiser moves in concert with its target, trying to keep up with the enemy and deny it an opportunity to extricate itself from the situation it found itself in. A sound strategy, to envelop the Desolator, but the opportunity for it has past and the command is to no avail - the Star Destroyer has slipped past the Republic line and the sequential fire of the remaining engines and thrusters brings the massive ship about in a tight quarter circle, a flare of drive power pushing it into the Deliverance's aft quarter and leaving the Derlin dangerously exposed in the fighter-ridden no-man's land. The volley from the Deliverance's aft batteries bring down the shields with a whooping alarm - capacitors drained the deflector screens fall but they have done their duty - better the shields than the hull. "Orders received, Admiral. Helm - all ahead full, plot an intercept course with the dreadnaught - stand ready ion cannons and tractor beams." Captain Corliss commands, A man of graying years and gaunt face. He steps clear of his own holotable to take the communication console himself. The wired microphone held to his lips. "Corliss to all gunnery officers - fire at will." The Annihilator's own engines flare and it pushes forward, the array of picket ships continuing to exchange long range fire through the cloud of brawling fighters straining for superiority. With the damage sustained by the Desolator, the Republic might be forgiven for imagining the end was in sight - but the Empire still holds the objective, and only now begins to fully commit. Streaks of fire lance from both vessels, scattering hails of fire through the void toward the Derlin as its helmsman frantically plots an erratic, evasive course while ion blasts wash over the Star Cruiser. Argon snarls as more turbolasers fire at the Derlin. "Bah. You would think we're the only target out here for them." He snorts as the ship continues to evade the blasts. "But at least we are buying time. Keep dodging fire, for now." Argon is not pleased, but knows that he and his crew are doing what they can. The Derlin's situation is noted, but there is little that he can do at the moment. They were caught in a pincer movement and one of the best ways he knew of to break out of one was to concentrate forces and break through one of the enemy flanks. The fellow Republican ship couldn't provide assistance, but it could at least continue soaking up enemy attention. "Keep us close to the Desolator and out of its forward guns.", the Imperial preference for concentrating its main weapons along the front of its ships noted. And the Deliverance keeps firing in the hope that something will break one way or the other. "Tack twelve degrees starboard" Corliss orders aboard Annihilator, having returned to the tactical display, faint outlines of hulls projecting the most likely possibilities for their maneuvers. The destroyer begins to pivot - its slight deviation from a head-on charge toward the Derlin maneuvering to bring the Republic line on to a single front as it closes range with its prey. The Desolator had bought them this opportunity, put the vessel that'd claimed the Executioner on the proverbial block. And he would not waste it. A volley of ion fire joins the fusillade of turbolasers erupting from the Victory-II's coordinated batteries, while independent cannon emplacements deploy a pattern of suppressive fire, walking their volleys of inward as the gunners work to cut off avenues of maneuver while the far-off Deliverance and Desolator exchange broadsides - fragments of superstructure blasted clear of the Star Destroyer, hull plating and armor carbonising under the ferocious yield of massive cannons but redundancy upon redundancy is built into ships of the line and even as a skin deck compartment is exposed to vacuum and a dozen ratings of the Imperial Fleet are sucked into a cold, gasping death in space the war machine proceeds with little more than a localised warning klaxon and the descent of bulkheads. The Derlin eludes most of the shots aimed at it, but a lucky barrage from the farther ship interacts with the shields. Fortunately no damage comes from it, but Argon is not pleased, "Bah, keep eluding them. They got lucky that time. Let's try and keep them on our shields' side, though. Best not to tempt fate." Damage reports came in from all over the cruiser but Rasi paid them no heed, there would be many more systems destroyed and soldiers killed before the battle was over. And that was before counting the fight on the ground. "Turn us on that thing, head straight for it.", the Deliverance's CO relays to the appropriate bridge section, and the Deliverance's engines flare as it begins to turns, the massive vessel thrown into a sharp 90 degree turn, or sharp by capital standards, the vessel's hull creaking. And as it does so, the vessel's guns keep firing. "Tell the Derlin to keep it up for as long as he can, we're going to take the Desolator off it." The volley of turbolaser fire exposes a major power conduit as explosions blast chunk after chunk, layer after layer of superstructure away. An overcharged loop from the fused coils plays havoc with minor ship systems - lights across twelve decks flicker, controls at key stations respond intermittently and for a moment, power to the bridge itself drops long enough to shut down the holotable and lights as breakers snap and localised back-ups noisily intervene to take up the interrupted load - the command station bathed in a bloody red light. In all the confusion it takes a few moments on the Desolator's bridge for the reality of what the officers are seeing to sink in. "Sir..." the executive officer volunteers after a brief but animated conference with his department heads. "...the Star Cruiser appears to be plotting an...intercept course. And she's accelerating." For the first time today, Fields looks surprised. He straightens and furrows his brow, deep wrinkles formed by the expression betraying the flag officer's advanced age. "At this range?" incredulity thick in his voice as he looks to the restored map display where the projected flight path is presented. "Is he mad?" The Desolator's engines damaged, she could only achieve cruising speed in any event but this might work to his advantage. If he could time it correctly... "Order the engine room to stand by to cut main drive and fire all reverse and port-side thrusters on my mark. Lets see if we can't invite our audacious friend to overshoot..." a full scale volley through the frontal arc might be just the thing to turn the tide. The volley of ion fire that erupts from the Desolator brings the Deliverance to her knees once again - blue lightning arcs across the ship's hull as its controls sputter and die - the vesel caught mid-maneuver can do nothing as she drifts along her established heading - directly through the fore quarter of the Desolator's guns. The Derlin continues its dance, but while the nearby shots can be avoided, a crackle as shields give a little way. "Lost some shields, sir." Argon's shields officer calls out. A nod from Argon is all the officer gets in response, as the Deliverance goes dark. A junior officer starts to say something when the Corellian says, "I saw. Let us hope it is temporary." Fields gives his anticipated order. "Mark!" Main drive cuts out entirely - every thruster on board fires in unison as the colossal warship, battered and bloodied by the exchanges of fire groans - the very hull convulses under the stress, damaged bulkheads buckle and rupture, exposing compartments to hard vacuum but it is worth every drop of blood as the disabled Deliverance drifts through the arc of the Star Destroyers' forward batteries - and all the fury of the Imperial Navy is unleashed. Volley after volley of fire pours from the Desolator and Annhilator's batteries, tearing through the Deliverance's un-shielded hull, turbolasers blasts detonating with blinding explosions as they rip through the engines - shattering the drive section of the ship atomised debris and tear into the reactor - across the ship, gunnery crews are thrown from their ordinance, bodies consumed in fire and torn into the void as turbolaser banks explode, ion chambers breach and the ship begins to break apart. The Deliverance has done her duty - she has delivered Bothawui into the hands of the Republic. But she has paid the iron price for it. There is nothing left to do but for the survivors to abandon ship before they join the ranks of the honoured dead. The Derlin is not as lucky this go around and takes a few hits, from both ships. Its shields officer calls out, "Shields down another third, sir. Probably cannot take much else." Argon watches as the Deliverance appears to begin breaking apart, the only lights from the ship being the sign of an inevitable explosion. He turns to his communication officer, "Open communications to all ships and squadron leaders." Once it is open, the commander orders, "This is Commander Brand aboard the Derlin. As the Deliverance, and Captain Cen, have been incapacitated, I am assuming command of this assault. For now we will continue fighting them. We need to buy our ground troops time." Once the channel is closed, he turns to his gunnery officer, "Aim for the ISD. Let's see what can be done." With that, death pours from the Derlin's turbolasers. "Open a channel to the surviving rebel vessels..." Fields orders as escape pods begin blasting clear of the disintegrating Deliverance. It is never carried out. The return fire from the Derlin as the modified dreadnaught swings about strikes home. A vast trail of debris lies in the Desolator's wake - the exposed drive still venting fiery bursts of ignited fuel into space. The damaged hull over-strained by abrupt maneuvers, she can simple sustain no more. Death not by a grand thirty-five gun crescendo as granted the Deliverance, but by a thousand cuts. And now the final blow. it begins in the tower structure, an impact piercing decks breaches the reactor - and all the force of anti-matter detonation spreads outward, radiating a wave of heat that turns metal to slag. If there is comfort to be had it is that even as she bled her life out, the Desolator fought with ferocity to her dying breath. She saw her foe to her doom before joining her, and that not one of her thirty-seven thousand crew had a moment's notice before the fires washed over them. Fields' commands still on his lips when the flames tore through the bridge and reduced hull and man alike to ash and dust. The Annihilator can do nothing but watch as the ship, her dutiful crew and her venerable commander vanish in a blinding fireball. A weak signal beams from the surface to the Republic fleet - its distorted, fragmented by the ionisation in the atmosphere a product of so much blaster fire in so small a space and time. The elated, breathless voice crackling through the interference. "We've done it! ...broken through! ...Empire's in full retreat!... pulling out! ...Bothawui's ours!" Argon almost smiles as the Desolator (though he does not know its name or who commands it) exits the field in spectacular fashion. However, the fight is not over, though the news from the ground causes Argon's smile to appear, "Inform the forces on the ground that their news is received. We are doing what we can up here." He thinks for a moment and continues, "Inform them that they will need to recover escape pods." The commander then looks at the location of the one remaining ship in the sky. "Lieutenant," Argon says to his communications officer after the message was sent, "Open a comm to the Imperial ship," once that is done Argon says, "This is Commander Brand, acting commander of the New Republic forces. I am offering you a chance to evacuate your forces in a cessation of hostilities. You have this chance to evacuate what forces you have and end this now without any further loss of life." The seconds after the Desolator's destruction leave the bridge crew of the Annhilator stunned and its batteries fall silent - the scattering of escape pods from the Deliverance carrying hundreds if not thousands of fortunate survivors from the Republic flagship's destruction - an opportunity denied their own comrades and commanders. Aboard an Imperial warship in battle, only the Executive Officer addresses the Captain - concerns of the moment are legion, tens of thousands of crewmen rely on thousands of junior officers, who rely upon hundreds of senior officers and it is for the Captain to command and address only those concerns most pivotal, most crucial to the moment. This certainly qualified. And the bitter expression on the face of the Communications Officer as he receives the Derlin's arrogant transmission is one of grief-stricken fury. Had he command, he might have answered with a full broadsided of heavy batteries, consequences be damned. Perhaps best then that a dispassionate voice is the one to relay the offer of cessation to Captain Corliss for his consideration. A quiet moment of thought passes - the tension aboard the Annihilator palpable. He need but give the command and they would gladly unleash such fury as to make even the late Admiral proud. To avenge their comrades in the blood of their enemies. But his is not the comfort of emotional response - his is the burden of strategic awareness. "Commander Brand." Corliss steps around the holotable to the communications station and takes the microphone in hand. "Your vessel's shields are buckling, the Annihilator is undamaged. Your strike fighters have suffered heavy losses and your sister ship is dead in space before my heavy batteries. But we have both bled this day. You will order all Rebel forces in orbit and on the surface to stand down their and allow Imperial troops an orderly withdrawal. if I do not receive confirmation that your forces have stopped their advance within one standard minute I will send the crew of that antiquated vessel off my port bow, and every last pilot in your rag-tag flotilla, to join the fallen. And then I will come about and I will usher you after them. These terms are non-negotiable." Argon thinks for a moment. First a line is opened to the Imperials, "I will inform the commanders". He then tells his communications officer, "Inform the ground and space commanders that they are to halt their advance and to allow the Imperials to withdraw from Bothuwai. If I do not give a response in three standard minutes to confirm that the withdrawal is not a trap, continue advancing, and give them everything you have." Once the order is given he sends word to the Imperial acting commander, "Captain, your terms are accepted. You may withdraw from Bothawui in an orderly fashion." With that, Republic ships break way from the fight and begin to form up in an orderly, well for Republic standards, line away from the Imperials to allow for the orderly retreat, though some seem to do so a bit reluctantly. Argon sighs and talks to himself, "I am not pleased to do this, but I will take what I can get." As Republic fighters break off their attacks, the first instinct of TIE pilots is to move in for the kill - it is the nature of this fast and deadly dance of starfighter combat that death results from pilot error more frequently than pilot skill, so narrow are the margins that no opportunity is to be wasted. Lasers snap after breaking fighters, shields flaring and interceptors swinging about into the prime target position before the order from Imperial flight controllers can be received. But discipline is not a trait lacking in the Galactic Empire and TIE's immediately break contact, banking rolls bringing them screaming away from their foes - the logistical issue of too many fighters and too few carriers left to transport them is one the Navy will need to resolve in the time available with withdrawal - but for now at least - the truce holds.